“Like what you see, Tinker?” he asks casually, taking a sip from his coffee.
Heat floods my face.
“No.”
I cross my arms quickly, like that might hide the reaction I can’t quite control.
“Why is my car parked in front of the bar with a full tank?” I demand. “And why isn’t it lighting up with all the different little warning lights blinking at me?”
Dex sets his mug down on the counter.
“I filled the tank and fixed the radiator, changed the oil, and put in new brakes.”
He shrugs like it’s no big deal.
I just stand there for a second, my brain struggling to catch up, emotions tangling somewhere between confusion, suspicion, and something softer I don’t want to name.
“Why?” I ask, my voice quieter now, less sharp, like I’m not sure I actually want the answer.
“I don’t want my employees stuck somewhere in this weather and then having to miss work.”
Another shrug. Like that explains everything.
It doesn’t. Not really.
Dex pushes off the counter and walks closer, stopping a step in front of me. Up close he smells like coffee and soap and something warm that makes my thoughts slip just enough to feel dangerous.
He smiles slowly.
“You know,” he says, “a thank you would be nice.”
“I… you…” My throat tightens, words tripping over each other as something unfamiliar presses against my chest. “Thank you,” I manage finally.
Dex nods once, satisfied.
“But I’m paying you back.” I square my shoulders.
Dex huffs out a low, amused breath.
“Don’t be late for work,” he says as he picks up his mug again. “You start at noon.”
Then he turns and walks down the hall toward his room like he didn’t just completely mess with my head.
I stand there in the kitchen, staring after him, something unsettled and shifting deep inside me.
My car is fixed.
My tank is full.
And my grumpy, infuriating boss apparently fixes engines before breakfast.
I have absolutely no idea what to do with that.
???
Dexter
The bar is quiet for once.
